Aboriginal America

by Jacob Abbott

  The Story of Moowis

  There lived a certain village an Indian girl who was distinguished for her grace and beauty, and was the admiration of all the young hunter and warriors of the tribe. Indeed, she was quite a belle.

  Among her admirers there was a very worthy and much respected young man, who went to visit her one day, with the intention of asking her hand. I will call him Ma-mon, that being a portion of his name. The belle, instead of received kindly Ma-mon's well intended attempts to please her, and giving him a respectful and proper answer, turned away from him in disdain, and dismissed him with a peculiar gesture, which, according to the Indian customs, was expressive of the utmost contempt. The young man went away very deeply wounded.

  He was indeed so sensitive, and his mind was so much disturbed by this insult, that he could not recover from the effects of it. He was the more deeply and permanently affected by it from the fact that the insult was put upon him in the presence of others, so that the affair was noised abroad throughout the village, and became the common talk of the young men of the tribe.

  At last the sense of shame and vexation so preyed upon him that he lost his health and strength, and almost his reason. He would lie upon his mat in his lodge all day long, silent, dejected, and with his eyes fixed on vacancy. He would take little or no food. No efforts could rouse him from this condition. He felt abashed and dishonored even in the presence of his relatives and best friends, and no persuasions could induce him to rise.

  At length the time arrived when the family to which he belonged were to take down the lodge , in order to remove to another station; but still he could not get up. So they took down the lodge from over his head, and left him there lying on his couch in the open air.

  It was early in the spring of the year, and the ground was covered with snow, but the snow was hard, as is usual at that season, so that they party could travel upon it, their feet making a crackling noise as they walked along over the frozen surface. The young man remained on his couch until the last sound of the departing footsteps died upon his ear, and then he arose.

  The ground that the encampment had occupied was covered with remnants and fragments of all kinds, which had been left there by the families which had occupied it. There were bits of soiled cloth, worn and tattered garments, draggled feathers, and old abandoned ornaments of all sorts, some lying on the frozen ground, and some trampled into the snow.

  At the sight of all this finery Ma-mon conceived a plan of revenge.

  “She thinks more of the dress than the man,” said he to himself, “ and I will make her a husband that will please her.'

  So he began to collect the old garments together, and after putting them in proper form he filled them with earth and snow, which he pressed firmly in, and thus finally produced the figure of a man. This figure he decorated with old beads, feathers, and other things which he found upon the ground, and which, by some sort of magic, he redeemed from their damaged condition and restored to their pristine beauty. The man, too, when he was finished, was endowed with the power of life, and motion, though his body and limbs still consisted of nothing but frozen mud and snow.

  Ma-mon put a bow and a quiver of arrows in the image's hand, and then ordered it to follow him. He gave it the name of moowis.

  Ma-mon now went on with moowis to the new encampment of the tribe. When they arrives there Moowis attracted great attention. So well formed a man and one dressed so very elegantly had seldom been seen. No one was more pleased with him than the belle. She fell in love with him at first sight, and invited him to her mother's lodge, where he was received with much honor.

  Among other marks of attention they assigned the stranger a place very near the fire. But Moowis was afraid to take this place for fear that he might be melted by the warmth, and so, notwithstanding the urgency of their invitations, he insisted on remaining near the door.

  This only increased the bell's admiration for him, as she considered it a proof of his great hardihood and power of endurance; and these are qualities which, next to courage, the Indian damsels most highly prize in their lovers.

  But we must not make the story too long. The belle accepted Moowis as her lover, and they were married. Very soon after the ceremony was performed Moowis said that he must go away for a time, for there was a journey that he must take. His bride said that she would go with him. He attempted to discourage her, but she was not willing to be left.

  So he set out upon his journey, his bride, according to the Indian custom in the case of man and wife, following him at a little distance. He went on at a very rapid rate. She tried very hard to keep up with him, but she found it extremely difficult to do so. She called to him incessantly to wait for her, but he paid no heed to her cries.

  Soon, too, the sun came up and Moowis began to melt away. The feathers and beads and other ornaments began, one after another, to drop off from him to the ground, and, as they fell, they returned to their original soiled and tattered condition. Still the bride pressed on, following her flying husband over rocks and windfalls, and through all sorts of rough and marshy ground. She called incessantly to him and looked for him everywhere, but there was nothing to be seen along the path where he had gone but rags, bones, old worn-our skins, broken beads, soiled feathers, and remnants of torn and tattered garments. The bride wandered on past all these things, calling continually to her husband and crying that she was lost, until at length she became perfectly bewildered and wholly uncertain which way to go. She however continued to wander about in her despair, and is wandering still, singing all the time a mournful song, in which she calls continually to Moowis, saying that she is lost, and begging him to come and save her.

  Old Red Head

  In ancient times there was a famous chieftain named Old Red Head, who was so violent and lawless in his life and character, and was so great a robber and murderer, that he was feared by the whole country around. he lived on an island in a like, and he had a boat with which he used to communicate with the shore.

  He was so much dreaded by the people of the country on account of his great strength and ferocity, that even his name became a bugbear, and a great many designs were formed and plans laid for killing him. But thus far none had succeeded.

  Not far from the lake where Old Red Head lived there was a family that consisted of a man and his wife, and a boy about fifteen years old.

  One evening, when the man had been out all day hunting, he came home to the lodge, bringing a deer. He was very tired and very hungry. His wife began to prepare the deer for supper, and while she was doing it she asked the boy to go down by a path through the woods to the river and bring some water.

  But it was dark and the boy said that he did not like to go. The father, when he heard this, accused his son of cowardice, and said, in a sneering and contemptuous manner:

  “I don't think you will ever kill Old Red Head.”

  This taunt stung the boy to his inmost soul. He said nothing, but he felt very deeply wounded. All that night he lay revolving in his mind what he would do.

  The next morning he asked his mother to make him a pair of moccasins from the skin of the deer which his father had killed. While she was doing this he went into the woods and made himself a bow and four arrows.

  The next morning after this he rose before sunrise, and putting on his moccasins and taking his bow and arrows in his hands, he went out and shot one of his arrows into the air. It went up very high. He observed which way it inclined as it ascended, and then walked off through the woods in that direction, intending to go to the spot where it would come down.

  He traveled on all day long, and at night he came to the arrow. He found that it had fallen upon a deer and killed him. The boy cut off as much of the flesh of the deer as he required, ate his supper from it, and then lay down and went to sleep.

  The next morning he rose early and shot another arrow into the air. He followed this arrow, as he had the other, and found this one, too, at night in a deer which it had kille
d. He made his supper from the flesh of this second deer, and then, being fatigued with his long march, he lay down and went to sleep again.

  He did the same the third day and the fourth day. His arrows were then all expended. On the fifth day he wandered about without any food, and not knowing what to do. At last he became exhausted with hunger and fatigue. He sank down upon the ground, and thought that he should die.

  While he was thus lying upon the ground in despair, he heard a strange sound approaching him, and raising his eyes he saw a well beaten path leading from the margin of some water to a cabin which was very near him, and which he had not observed before, and up this path a strange looking old woman was coming, thumping her stick upon the ground as she came. She wore a sort of cloak, which was made of the scalps of women, and to the top of her staff a number of birds were fastened by means of strings tied to their feet. These birds fluttered over the old woman's head as she walked along, and continued singing all the time.

  The woman went into her cabin and took off her cloak. As she took it off she shook it, and as she did so sounds of loud and continued laughter came from the scalps of which it was made. These sounds continued until she had put the cloak away.

  The old woman then came out of the cabin and advanced to the place where the boy was lying. She accosted him kindly, and raising him up, led him into her cabin and gave him some food.

  Encouraged by her kindness the boy told her his story. He gave her an account of what had taken place in his father's lodge, of his father's cutting sarcasm, and of his having left home on account of it.

  She listened attentively, and when he had finished she told him that he must not take what his father had said to him too much to heart.

  “Be of good cheer,' said she. “You shall kill old Red Head, and I will show you how to do it.”

  So she made the dress of a girl for him, and fashioned him a great many beautiful ornaments. She put the dress upon him and also the ornaments. There were feathers for his hair and bracelets for his arms, and a necklace of beads and a girdle. In the girdle she place a blade of grass of a certain kind, which was pretty broad and stiff, and sharp at the edges.

  “Now,” said the old woman when the boy was ready, “you look like a beautiful girl.'

  So she directed him which way to go, and told him that he must journey on by that way until he came to the shore of Red Head's lake, opposite the island.

  “There,” said she, “you will find a great many young men, who will fall in love with you , and want to marry you. But you must tell them that you are determined not to marry anybody but Red Head himself, and that if he will not come for you in his canoe, and take you to his island, you will go back again to your home.

  When this was made known to Red Head he determined to come to the shore for the girl. So he caused his boat to be brought out. The frame of this boat was made of living rattlesnakes, and they, by some sort of magic, were endowed with the power of knowing when anybody came into the boat with any evil or treacherous designs against their master, and of signifying it by hisses and contortions.

  Accordingly, when the pretended girl embarked on board the boat, they began all to hiss, and to write and twist about in the most horrible manner. But Red Head was so captivated with the beauty of his prize that he would not heed their warnings. He went on with the boy to his island.

  There, after meeting with various adventures and several narrow escapes from detection which cannot here be detailed, the boy succeeded in dissipating all Red Head's suspicions, if he ever had any, and the marriage ceremony was performed. A great concourse of people came to attend the wedding. Immediately afterward, or as soon as the new married pair were alone, the boy took Old Red Head's head in his lap, as he reclined on the ground by his side, and drawing out the sharp-edged blade of grass from his girdle, he cut it off by a single stroke.

  He then made his escape, taking the head with him. He carried it first to the old woman's cabin to show it to her, and then went with it home to his father's--his heart filled with pride and exultation.

  He was received with every mark of consideration and honor by his family and tribe, and continued to enjoy great renown as long as he lived as the slayer of Old Red Head.

  How Algon Gained His Wife

  Algon was a very brave and handsome young hunter. One day when he was roaming over the plains in search of game he suddenly came to a well-worn circular track in the grass, with no path leading to it from any quarter.

  This seemed to him a strange sight. How could such a track be made without people to make it? And how could people come to make it without leaving any signs of a path, or even of footsteps, in the grass where they came?

  While he was pondering on this mystery he heard a rushing sound in the air, as of a great bird flying, and looking up he saw a large wicker basket descending, with twelve beautiful maidens in it. He stepped back into the thicket, where he could conceal himself from sight, and remained there watching.

  The basket or car containing the twelve girls came gently descending toward the ground, being let down by cords from above. As soon as it reached the ground the girls leaped out, and all immediately went to the ring and began dancing about it in a charming manner.

  Algon watched them as they danced, and finally fixed his eyes and his heart upon the youngest of them, who seemed to him to be the most beautiful of them all. He came forth from his thicket intending to seize her, but as soon as the maidens saw him they seemed exceedingly terrified. They all with one accord sprang for the basket, and, climbing into it as nimbly as possible, they were drawn up again into the sky and disappeared.

  The next day Algon went again to the place where he had seen the ring, in order to watch for the coming of the girls--expecting to see them descend, as on the preceding day, from the sky.

  This time, however, instead of going in his own proper form, he changed himself into an opossum, a very curious and artful animal which hides cunningly among the branches of a tree. In this guise he took his place in a tree near the ring. Before long he saw the basket coming down out of the sky. When it reached the earth the girls descended from it and began to dance again, but before Algon had time to come down from his tree and go toward them the youngest of the girls spied him and gave the alarm, and the whole bevy immediately sprang to their basket, climbed into it as nimbly as they had done before, and went drawn up into the sky again.

  The next day Algon determined to go once more, but now he concluded to change into a smaller animal than the opossum, in order the more easily to escape observation. This time he resolved to be a mouse.

  So when he reached the place where the ring was formed, he looked about in the thickets near, and presently found a piece of the hollow root of a tree lying upon the ground, with a nest of mice in it. He took up the piece of root, nest, mice and all, and carried it out of the thicket to the ring, and there laid it down upon the grass near the outside of the ring. Then he changed himself into a mouse, and took his place with the others in the nest.

  He had not been there long before he saw the basket coming down out of the sky as before. The girls stepped out of it and came toward the ring. One of them saw the fragment of the root upon the ground.

  “Ah!” said she, “what is this? This was not here before.”

  So they all stopped and looked at the root, and then began to pull it to pieces. At this the mice all came out of the nest, and ran about upon the ground, The girls immediately began to kill them. At last they killed all but Algon. He, in order to save himself, turned back into a man.

  The girls, when they saw one of the mice expanding and assuming the form of a man, screamed and fled. In the meantime Algon's transformation was complete, and he sprang after them. He succeeded in seizing the youngest, his beloved, and in holding her, notwithstanding her struggles, until the others had reached the basket, and had gone off again into the sky.

  Being thus made captive the girl soon concluded to resist Algon's love no longer, but be
came his wife, and the wedded pair lived for a long time together in peace and happiness.

  A great many other narratives of this kind might be given, but these will be sufficient. They are pretty fair specimens of the tales and traditions which are related by parents to children around the wigwam fires, and so handed down from generation to generation.

  Constitution and Character of the Indian Mind.

  Adaptations Observed in the Forms of Animal Life

  In stocking the earth with its living inhabitants the Creator has adapted the form and the physical constitution of the animals of each several species to the character of the locality which they are intended to inhabit, and to the mode of life they are to lead. In other words, every being is endowed with powers and qualities suited to the functions which he is designed to fulfill.

  Thus the giraffe, being appointed to feed on the leaves of trees, is provided with long legs and a long neck, in order to enable him to reach his food, and the chamois, having to obtain his sustenance from grass growing in the clefts of the rocks and on steep declivities, has hoofs fitted expressly to facilitate climbing, and muscles to enable him to lift himself up to any shelf among the rocks that he can reach, or to let himself drop down a descent where any animal would be killed. Birds that are to search for their food along the margins of lakes and ponds are furnished with long wading legs and near-seeing eyes; while those appointed to find and devour the bodies of dead animals, wherever they may lie, over a wide extent of country, have eyes endowed with a most astonishing extent of vision, and wings of prodigious strength to sustain them in the longest flights, and to carry them up to the loftiest pinnacles of the mountains.